


Stealth

by carsatan



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, It's gonna be kinda gay, M/M, Slow Burn, hanzo calls mccree stupid a lot, mccree climbs up places and he can't get down: the fanfiction, there will eventually be smut I promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 21:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7729924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carsatan/pseuds/carsatan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanzo Shimada is after the massive bounty on Jesse McCree's head, he soon learns he needs to stop making bets with the cowboy. The two eventually end up in Japan together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an rp I am actively doing with my friend <3

Brown eyes shifted down below the area beneath him. 

America was such a hot place, too hot for his tastes. It was dry, muggy, like standing in front of an open oven.

He gazed down to the flyer in his hand.  
  
Jesse McCree- Bounty Hunter  
Bounty- $40,000,000  
Wanted Dead or Alive  
Charges: Raiding a Hypertrain, disturbing the peace, murder, theft, attempted robbery 

The Archer remembered hearing about the robbery down at Rikumaru in Hanamura, he wasn’t sure if the other had been the thief though, but, from the paper in front of him, it seemed like it was highly possible.

Deep eyes shifted, seeing movement from underneath him. No doubt in his mind that this was Jesse McCree, his next target. 

A deep breath was pulled from his lips as he grasped an arrow, quickly getting ready, it wouldn’t take much, he had the advantage of height on the other, as well as stealth.

When you were a wanted criminal, every corner, every rooftop, every unopened door became a death trap.

That was how the cowboy came to be so ever aware of his every surrounding. Even as the sun beat down and made his skin feel like it was boiling, he was acutely aware of the man on the roof of the building above him. He was absolutely silent on his perch, the giveaway that same silence. Nothing was ever this quiet unless someone was getting ready to shoot his head clean off.

Stepping into the open, Jesse shoved his flesh hand into his pocket and turned. Raising his mechanical one, he closed one eye and mimed a finger gun towards the other man, a wide grin settled on his lips.

“Not too good at hidin’ up there, partner. Gonna have to try harder if ya want my head.” He was cocky, perhaps a little too much, but he had the skills to back it up. Mostly, anyway.

He couldn’t see the man, was sure the other could see him, though. Lowering his mechanical hand, it settled on his trusty Peacemaker, head turned to where he thought the sniper might be.

There was no wind, not a cloud in the sky, is was crystal clear. He had predicted every possible outcome, one arrow already notched in his bow, ready to be fired at any time. 

The man froze, rigid. Had he seen him up there already? He shouldn’t have, he had been up there for what seemed like hours, likely getting a sunburn at this rate. He had put a bit of sunscreen on, but, he knew the tips of his ears were getting burned, he could feel it. 

Hanzo then realized, he had very poorly executed this, horribly underestimating this man. He seemed to be much smarter than he appeared as he began backing up a bit, deciding now perhaps was not the best time. He had a clean shot, but, this man was very dangerous. Hanzo knew he was a quick aim, then again, with a bow and arrow, one must be quick. 

He was already long gone, having ducked off of the roof to the other side, slipping off down behind it, sweat shone on his skin, trying to cool himself down desperately. 

His back pressed against the building, deciding now was not a good time, he had already been seen. How, how had the other already known? Had he made a sound? Had the other somehow seen his shadow somewhere? He hadn’t even glanced up, yet, he knew the other was already there, ready to sink an arrow into his head. 

He panted slightly, arrow still docked in his bow, ready to fire in case if the other decided to pursue him. Hanzo was ready though, waiting patiently. It was one of his best traits, he thought, at least, patience. He always was able to sit for hours, same position, same spot, not moving, for hours, waiting for his target to come into sight.

When there was silence for a few moments, the gunslinger figured the man must have gone. He shoved his mechanical hand in his pocket and walked in the general direction he assumed the sniper would have gone, focusing on keeping his own silence.

The cowboy tugged his hat down just a little further, trying to block the sun from burning his face. Even after all his time spent outside, it could still make his skin ache if he stayed in it too long. Would likely have pink cheeks the next day if he wasn’t careful.

Slowing himself so he wouldn’t make a single noise, the gunslinger came around the building on the opposite side the archer had slid down. He leaned against the wall, eyeing him carefully.

“You’re definitely the cutest one who’s tried ta kill me,” He crossed his arms across his chest, relaxed in the shade as though this was a meeting with friends. “Ya gonna try ta kill me a second time, ya think? I’d like ta keep an eye out for that pretty face.”

Jesse McCree was grinning, as though he was proud of himself. He knew he had never seen the other anywhere else, he certainly wasn’t used to the sun. His nose and ears were turning red from its abuse, and the way he dressed was almost a dead giveaway.

The man was busy peering around the other side of the building, whipping around at the others words, quickly shooting an arrow, missing the other by mere inches. 

Brown eyes narrowed at the cowboy, looking him up and down. Yes, this was definitely Jesse McCree, hard to miss a cowboy running around the South. 

“I am a man on a mission, yes,” he confirmed, going ahead and docking yet another arrow, pulling it back, muscles shifting as he did so, plenty of force sitting behind it, waiting to be released like a strung out rubber band.

He was not cute, he was the face of precise and patience. Cute was a word to describe children, to describe animals, to describe women. He was none of those things, so he immediately took it to insult, arrow aimed with deadly accuracy at the cowboy’s forehead.

“Your bounty says ‘Dead or Alive’, I will not hesitate to kill you,” he warned, prosthetic legs changing his stance, in case if the other planned on attacking him first. 

He was prepared, instantly analyzing the many ways this can play out. 

Jesse cocked an eyebrow as the arrow whizzed by his head, feeling the wind it caused. It had nearly hit him, missing by only a few inches. The gunslinger figured that was on purpose, he didn’t seem the type to miss a shot very often.

The wanted man dug around in his pocket for his lighter, other hand placing a cigar between his lips. He lit it, brown gaze never leaving the archer that stood posed across from him, ready to fire an arrow at any second. But his gaze shifted to those muscles when they moved, he certainly wasn’t a weak man. Likely not best to engage in hand to hand combat either, then.

Turning his gaze back up, the gunslinger took a heavy draw on the cigar, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it a thousand times.” Eyes dropped as he heard the prosthetics shift about, studying the way they moved.

“Interestin’ legs ya got there. Look a bit more high tech than my arm, if I’m honest with ya.” Another puff on the cigar, wiggling his mechanical arm as if to prove a point.

Hanzo narrowed his eyes, quickly taking offense to the others words. 

“You are very talkative,” he pointed out, arrow still aimed with deadly accuracy. The other man seemed calm, cocky, even with a weapon pointed directly at him, directly between the eyes. 

Hanzo knew this man was dangerous, obviously, by his criminal history, and the fact tat no one had been able to bring him in yet. The man didn’t even seem concerned, walking around in plain sight.

“Anything is more high tech than that arm,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes, aim not faltering in the slightest amount, fully intent on taking McCree’s head right off. 

He shifted, aiming a few inches higher.

_fwip_

Right through the cowboy’s hat, sticking it to the wall behind him.

The gunslinger shrugged, tapping his cigar between his fingers as he watched the other man. “So I’ve heard,” Another cocky grin, head tilted just slightly to the left. It off-centered the arrow, pointed it straight at his eye rather than the center of his head.

However, the grin was quickly replaced with a pout, glancing down at his arm. “That’s kinda harsh, don’t ya think? Even for someone tryin’ to kill me.” By the time he had looked back up, there was an arrow flying straight at him, eyes widening just a little.

When it stuck his hat, he sneered a bit, turning to pluck the arrow from the wall. Jesse tossed it at the other man’s feet, not before taking the time to study it, just a little.

“Don’t shoot tha hat,” He stuck it back on his head, tipping the brim back enough so that he would still be able to see the other man.

“A cell phone is more advanced than that shoddy thing you consider an arm,” he glared at him, immediately docking yet another arrow.

He grabbed the arrow, slipping it back into his quiver, eyeing the man up and down.

“Next time, it will back through your skull, cowboy,” he hissed. The other didn’t even have a weapon drawn. “You are cocky and arrogant, the typical American,” he spat the last word out. 

He disliked Americans, boisterous and loud, cocky, show-offs.

“I will shoot your hat as many times as I please, as well,” he said, glaring over at the other, face getting red from the previous harsh sun exposure. 

Jesse was a bit tired of the back and forth, if he were entirely honest. It’d been a long day and he’d been hoping to just go home. But, oh well, c'est la vie.

“If you’re gonna kill me, can ya just do it? I’m tired and I’d like ta either leave, or die. Your choice.” A tilt of his head to lean it against the wall, eyeing the other man lazily.

But a flicker of amusement crossed his features, hand tipping his hat back just a bit further. “Looks like you’re roasting under this hot, American sun, pardner. Ya wanna borrow my hat?”

A low chuckle as he ground out his cigar on the wall, finally straightening himself up. He waited patiently for the response, couldn’t help himself with being interested.

Hanzo narrowed his eyes at the other, lowering his arrow.

“You are eager to die, it seems,” he scoffed, how pathetic. This man wasn’t even going to try to put up a fight against him, he hadn’t even reached for his gun, not even after shooting at him twice. 

“No,” he grumbled, “I do not want to borrow your hat,” he said, yes, he was roasting. He wasn’t used to such humidity as well, causing his clothes to stick to him uncomfortably. It grew hot in Hanamura sometimes, but, it was fairly nice all year round, nice breezes blowing cherry blossom petals off of the trees.

He loved watching them, just sitting up on the roof, it was entertaining to him, many watched sports, or played games, he liked to watch the wind. The invisible force, something that wasn’t truly there, you couldn’t see it, yet, you can see what it was capable of, you could feel it whisper against your skin, whipping your clothes slightly in the breeze. 

“You offer your hat to the man sent here to kill, you, why?” He said, posture changing slightly, no longer in any sort of attack formation, curiosity getting the best of him. “And, how did you know I was up there? I didn’t make a single sound.”

Jesse nearly groaned, bit his tongue so he wouldn’t, when the other man scoffed at him. “Eager? Nah. Just kinda tired of runnin’ away from people tryin’ ta kill me.” He shrugged, watching the other man lower his arrow.

The gunslinger narrowed his eyes a little, studying the pink that was spreading on the other man’s cheeks and ears, before making a grunting sound. “Get yourself some aloe, then. The tips of your ears are bright red, same with your cheeks.”

Through the silence, Jesse was silent himself, thinking of how many people he’d taken out of commission in the month before this moment. Killing, however, had been off the table for a little while. He felt like it was chipping away at his soul too much, little bits at a time.

Attention drawn by the man speaking to him, he raised his gaze to study him. “Because I wanna. That’s why.” That came out much more grumpy sounding than he meant it to, clearing his throat. “Sorry, but, that’s really tha answer I got for ya. ‘Cause I wanna.”

He tilted his head at the final question, humming. “When you’re bein’ hunted for money, ya get used to the way tha world feels when you’re about to die. Ya may not have made a sound, but that’s tha giveaway. I could feel your eyes on me, to put it simply.”

He already knew he was getting sunburnt, he only brought a certain amount of sunscreen with him to America, he put some up on his one shoulder to protect his tattoo, knowing that the sun was known for damaging precious ink. 

It surprised him, it truly did, that the other wanted to share his hat with him, the man sent here to kill him. Still, the cowboy made no movement or indication that he was going to even attempt to fight Hanzo back, not even going to struggle for his life.

The others southern drawl and accent was starting to get to him, did this man know no true English? Or had he been a Year 10 dropout? It wouldn’t surprise me. He didn’t seem very book smart, but, he was likely very street smart. The Deadlock Gang didn’t take just any kid, after all. 

Stance shifted once more, hand still firm on his weapon as he gazed the other up and down. He was confused, he had never gone after someone whom didn’t even bother to fight for their life. Let alone someone offering to assist him from the harsh sun.

“I do not need your assistance you thief,” he glared at him. This man was not getting anywhere close to him, he wouldn’t allow it. His file said just how dangerous he was. And, Hanzo was not willing to risk any of it. 

His tattoo burned and fizzled, anxious for the throes of battle to ensue. But, this was not a good time. He was practically cornered, he had no high ground. He would have to show his back to climb up higher. There was too much risk.

“You live for another day cowboy,” Hanzo huffed, slipping the arrow back into its quiver and tossing the bow over his back before vanishing around the corner, quickly climbing up onto the next building to make his getaway, ensuring he was looking over his shoulder often, checking to see if the other would pursue him at all.

Silence was always deafening. He hated every second of it, regardless if it was with friends or enemies. It meant something was brewing, good or bad, and just made his skin crawl. This situation was no different, brown gaze locked onto the Japanese man that stood across from him.

His eyes raked across that tattoo, sure he’d seen it ablaze for only a moment. But by the time he’d looked it over, the other man was moving away, calling him a thief and granting him another day. Jesse followed behind slowly, just close enough the sniper would be able to see him from his new perch.

With a grin, the gunslinger raised his hand, shut an eye and finger gunned in his direction. Then he was gone, to live another day.

Hanzo gazed down at the cowboy, rolling his eyes in disgust as he watched the other finger gun at him. 

Stupid American. 


	2. Stargazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo once again tries to assassinate McCree, only to make a bet with him. This chapter is a bit long, but, it has some flashbacks in it.

Metal fingers tapped against the table of the diner, far too late at night for much of anyone else to be around. The people who owned it were nice enough to let him hang around, despite the bounty they knew hung over his head.

For that, he was grateful, especially when he was nursing a bullet hole in the arm that wasn’t mechanical. It’d taken a fair chunk from the outer part, but with no medical center he could trust, he was left to simply wrap it up and keep going.

Taking a sip of some coffee that had long ago gone cold, Jesse wrinkled his nose and set it aside, a long sigh escaping his lips.

It was a lot cooler at night than Hanzo had predicted, it had been blazing hot all day, the vivid sun scorching down on everything in its sight, Hanzo included. His ears were burnt, as was the back of his shoulder where he forgot to apply sunscreen the previous day. 

The scent of aloe gently hung in the air, a soft breeze cooling down the liquid on his pale skin. The gold tails of his hair tie gently waved behind him, dancing across his back, twisting and turning in the gentle breeze, dancing with one another, gently flicking against his shoulder.

Brown eyes seemed nearly black in the darkness, hidden from the moon’s night as he sat, perched, waiting in a destroyed train cart. 

The next one down hung off of the edge of the destroyed tracks, dangling there gently. 

It was a hell of a long way down, but, Hanzo knew better than to be foolish enough to put himself in a position where he would fall. A tumble from this height, would do some serious damage, and would definitely snap both of his prosthetics.

Arrow was drawn as he sat there, crouched down. An advantage to having both legs as prosthetics, they didn’t tire, they didn’t truly get sore. Yes, the mechanisms of them would get shorted out if in one position for too long, but, he had yet to ever come across an issue like that. They were designed with him and his profession in mind, quick, elegant, graceful, precise, and deadly. 

Hanzo wondered if the other man knew he was up here, he had made sure to set plenty of distance between the two of them this time, adding a drastic amount of height from it. Also, he knew that the other wouldn’t be able to climb all the way up here.

If the archer truly needed to, he would be able to jump onto the car just beneath them and off to the side, resting just in front of the diner.

The man wondered why they had not bothered to clean any of this up? It was dangerous, especially with the train cart just gently teetering off the edge of the tracks. Over time, the elements would take its course with it, eroding it, causing the latch to be covered in rust. And a gentle breeze would be all it needed to cause it to shatter, sending it slamming into the dry earth beneath it. 

There was that silence again, deafening, crushing him like crashing waves. He sat up stark straight, head moving to survey the land around him. This was his home, he knew it better than any sniper or head hunter ever could dream to.

For a moment, Jesse was inclined to believe he was being paranoid, and nearly went back to his meal. A sliver of gold flashed in the corner of his eye and he jerked his head back to study the train that dangled from its perch. Hmm. A perfect place for a certain Japanese bowman to hide out.

Sliding a few bills onto the table, Jesse left through the rear entrance, bidding his friends (if one could call them that) goodnight. The gunslinger knew that Hanzo would notice the instant he was gone, but he also knew how to get under the trains blind spot.

In position, Jesse cupped his hand at the corner of his mouth. “Nice ta see ya again, pardner,” the cowboy called up, chuckling quietly to himself.

He was a bit surprised the man had bothered to return at all. But he wasn’t much in the mood for their back and forth, bandaged arm aching and still oozing blood slowly. It’d heal, in time, but right then he just wanted to sleep.

He had merely glanced away, glancing down the road to the Gas Station labeled as ‘Big Earl’s’. 

Everything in this town looked run down, like it had not been tended to for many years, if not decades. It looked straight out of the films that his brother would force him to watch while they were younger.

The way the sun had cast large shadows on the scenery, it was calming. It was nothing like back in Hanamura. The bright sun shining off of the various rocky structure that surrounded them.

He had passed time many ways, he had mapped out the lines and cracks in the various rocks around them, weathered away by the scorching dry heat that lingered for over an hour after the sun had even gone down. He counted the bullet holes in the Route 66 sign multiple times, vaguely wondering what had caused them. Wondering if it had been accidental, or some kids just trying to pass the time. Or, was someone truly trying to shoot at someone here? This seemed like a good place for wanted to hang out, it was away from the main roads, it had taken Hanzo quite a while to get all the way out here, a major high way nowhere in sight. 

Dark eyes flickered back to the diner, jolting slightly.

His target was gone, yet again.

What the?

Eyes shifted from the diner towards the ground, still hidden by the train as he heard the other shout up to him. 

The wind whipped through the train yet again, gold tails once again giving his away his location and the archer grumbled, slowly peeking his head down over the edge at the other, eyes narrowing. Sure enough, there was the cowboy, standing down below him, having spotted him.

He hadn’t even been watching him, no eyes on the other, yet, he had been spotted so easily yet again. 

Hanzo was starting to realize a trend here, the other was much cleverer than he had previously anticipated. He stood up to his full height, prosthetics half teetering off the ledge of the train car he was hiding out in.

The next one creaked and groaned as the breeze blew against its hollow form. It was steady. 

“You found me yet again,” he called out, quickly hopping down onto the teetering train cart, balancing on the metal edge of it, shifting as it swayed before plopping down, prosthetics hanging off of the edge as he continued to balance, gazing down at him. The sunlight just barely reflected off of him, still hidden in the shadow of the original car. 

The creaking metal was enough to make Jesse take two steps backwards, eyes narrowed at the trains. For as long as he’d known Route 66, those trains had been stable, but that didn’t mean he trusted them. At any moment, they could shift, tumble to the ground and crush whoever happened to be standing there.

He shouldn’t have felt so queasy watching the man that was trying to kill him jump down from the highest one, but he did, head buzzing with anxiety until he landed safely on his feet. Jesse couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. Why, he asked himself? This man was literally trying to kill him for money, why did he care if he fell?

Still, he voiced his concerns, gaze serious. “Ya think it’s smart to be up there? Those things could fall and they’d crush ya before ya had time to get away.” No, he definitely wasn’t watching the way his golden ribbons fluttered in the wind. And it definitely didn’t make his heart stutter to see the way the moon reflected off and around him.

He squinted as Hanzo spoke to him, tilting his head to one side. A life around guns had left him a little hard of hearing, not that he’d ever admit it. Shrugging, Jesse had to hope he’d heard him well enough. “I told ya, the silence is a giveaway. No one tries ta kill someone in a crowd, too many variables.”

Hanzo could have laughed as he watched the other take a few steps back, backing away from the groaning metal of the train that loomed above him. 

“I have faith that I am safe,” he nodded. “I am quicker than it anyways, I would be on the ground in an instant, or on another train car,” he huffed. “You underestimate me and my abilities cowboy,” he said, legs dangling, the wind slipping along him, soothing the hot burn of the sunburn that he was now donning. 

He chuckled, glaring down at him. 

“I have killed many in crowds, and always hit my target,” he shook his head. “My shot is perfect,” he boasted. It was basic geometry. Everything was math, everything was pre-calculated out, and everything was taken into account. The wind, the direction, movement, every variable was accounted for and jotted down in his mind. “One must take risks to get their target.”

You cannot always catch your target moving alone, so, one must improvise, attacking them in a crowd full of people, also flustered the police wondering where exactly it had come from. He shifted his weight on purpose, the train car creaking loudly, metal straining against metal. 

There were no crowds out here on Route 66 though, it was practically abandoned. It was almost always silent as well. His bow was secured onto his back. If the other was going to truly shoot at him, he would merely tip backwards, falling down into the car that pointed directly down into the earth. He was strong enough he could grasp onto the ledge and hold himself there for quite some time, hidden away unless the cowboy were to walk directly beneath him.

Jesse stepped forward as the man kept talking, not wanting to look like an idiot trying to understand him. He chuckled low in his throat, eyes sparking against the dark of the night. “I wouldn’t be so sure I doubt anythin’ about ya, pardner.” He was absolutely sure the man did nothing on accident.

He kept speaking, Jesse just happy to listen to his voice. It flowed like water, felt like silk against his ears, he wasn’t sure he was even really paying attention to what was being said. But, the gunslinger nodded his head, smirking. “I’ll agree with ya there, I’ve taken many a risk.” While he followed it with a joking finger gun at the man, he meant it truly.

The man hummed against the silence that passed between them, watching the wind toss about those golden ribbons. His skin was still pink where the sun had kissed it, but when a gust of wind hit, Jesse was positive he smelled aloe.

Eyes glinting mischievously, he smirked up at the man whose name he didn’t yet know. “I see ya took my advice for those burns, huh?” He studied the structure the man was sitting upon, knew it like the back of his own hand though he’d never been able to climb it the way his assailant had.

Deep eyes gazed down at the cowboy, legs dangling slightly, scraping oh so slightly against the train car he rested on, which teetered every once in a while as he would shift to get comfortable. He had faith it would not break, it had likely endured heavy winds or possibly a storm since this had happened. His weight surely would not cause it to collapse.

Lips were pressed into a fine line as he scoffed, raising a hand and finger gunning back at the other for no reason other than to possibly mock, or amuse, the other. 

“Yes, I was in a lot of discomfort this morning when I woke up,” he admitted, slowly pushing himself to his feet, walking to the complete edge of the car, making no sudden movements as it creaked and groaned yet again, tipping and bobbing in various directions as extra weight was suddenly added to one end. 

“Such a large crash, and no one tried to clean it up?” He asked aloud to himself, gazing over the sight before him. The various lights of the gas station down the street illuminated his face, casting large shadows across the land down beneath him. The moon made it easy to see the destroyed cars beneath. 

Hanzo’s gaze flickered up to the other side of the path, where the rest of the train rested. What a stupid design, having trains go right over the part of town. It was fairly barren here, then again, with the Interstate, the major road of Route 66 was decommissioned in 1985; a staggering 91 years ago. It was evident, the diner looked like it was falling apart, and honestly, it looked like McCree was one of their only customers. 

It was evident that these had been US Military cars, and, the accident had not happened too long ago. Well, from what he had heard, it was no accident. The notorious Deadlock Gang took it, supposedly stealing a high powered bomb from one of the carts as well. 

There was a cart blocking the exit, the edge of the road that led to a tunnel in the Gorge, a large black spot surrounded the tunnel’s entrance. An explosion. Further proving this had been done on purpose. 

Deep eyes flickered back up to the large moon overhead as he stood, still as a statue, lost in this thoughts for a few moments. 

The train car groaned, shifting slightly and he decided he had been up high for long enough, steadying himself as he leapt down, prosthetics bent, braced for the landing as he landed on the large cart down below, still above the cowboy off to the side. 

Jesse wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, but he felt small under that deep gaze. Small and unimportant, the other man certainly had a way of making a man doubt himself. He did his best not to fidget, instead looking over the crash he was sitting on.

“Yeah, this hot American sun will do that to ya,” He commented back, turning to glance over his shoulder a moment. He was almost positive he’d heard something, narrowed his eyes in suspicion with his back slightly turned to the archer.

It took a full minute to convince himself it was nothing, feeling too on edge, too out in the open. Rolling his shoulders, Jesse gave his full attention back to the other man as he jumped down. There came that sick feeling again, Jesse felt himself tense, ready to catch him if he fell.

He didn’t, of course, the gunslinger should have known better. This man was a work of art, Jesse had decided, all light steps and scaling walls as though they were nothing. He made no response to the question of the mess, of course no one had bothered to clean it up. Too nervous to step in the gangs way, perhaps.

“Y'know, if I tried that jump, I would’ve snapped my ankles. Those legs sure are somethin’.” He glanced them over once more, as he had done the day before. Interested in the technology and where had gotten them. Compared to them, his arm was shoddy, as the sniper had called it.

The man immediately took notice the other glancing over his shoulder, bow and arrow ready in an instant, eyes narrowing off in the same direction the cowboy was looking. 

The weapon was put back with precise skill, slipping it back over his shoulder, a movement done many times a day to the point it was a routine, to the point he was surprised he did not have a permanent line across his broad chest from the string, or at least from the nock locator.

“Of course you would have, you’re large and heavy on your feet,” he said, practically making fun of the other, he had a drastic advantage, he was shorter, shorter than most American men, to the point where several men had thought it wise to tease him about how short he was, only to find an arrow in their face on a train. They had immediately silenced themselves and gone back to their respectable seats, no longer bothering the archer. 

“When your father owns a criminal organization, top of the line prosthetics are mere pocket change,” he scoffed. “Custom designed, no other ones like it in the world.”

Custom fitted as well, he was thankful for them, he relied on them at every moment of every day. They were built with his profession in mind as well, silent, sleek, quick, perfect for agile maneuvers and leaping from one area to the other. 

The man sat, perched on the edge of the train car, legs dangling once more, a common sitting position for him; obvious by now. He preferred having his feet out in front of him, where he could leap down if he needed to make a quick getaway.

While the other prepared himself, Jesse’s hand had come to rest on his Peacekeeper. He still wasn’t entirely convinced he hadn’t heard something, someone, even as he turned his attention back to the sniper. All of his senses were on high alert, eyes darting side to side every few moments.

Still, he chuckled at the other man’s words, offering him a lopsided grin. “If you’re callin’ me fat, I’m definitely gonna have ta take offense.” He knew the man was mocking him, couldn’t find the energy to care.

Clicking his tongue against his teeth at another suspicious sound, Jesse moved a bit closer to where the archer sat. “Tell me, that sound suspicious to ya, or am I bein’ paranoid?” It was possible he was, he couldn’t be sure. Too many distractions around him, the sniper included.

Yes, this man was technically here to kill him. But his bow had not been raised as of yet, no arrows thrown just inches past his head. Perhaps he was tired, it didn’t matter much to Jesse. The man was clearly higher skilled than himself, might as well ask him for his opinion.

“American’s are clumsy, that is evident. You are American, therefore, you are clumsy,” he said, eyes still watching off to the side. 

He shifted position, pulling back a Sonar Arrow.

“I’ll double check,” he said, immediately drawing back and letting the arrow fly, listening to the satisfying sound as it sliced through the air. “See what is unseen,” he scoffed, immediately spotting the enemy far back in the shadows before drawing another arrow with quick and precise movements, immediately drawing it back as far as he could, letting it fly.

“Hardly a challenge,” he said, not even bothering to look, listening as the arrow hit its target dead center in the chest. 

The bow was put back as he hopped off of the train car, golden tails floating behind him, landing with ease as he made his way into the darkness to retrieve his arrows, not saying anything as he tugged the one out of its target, merely placing it back in its quiver, grabbing the sonic arrow as well, and coming back, scaling the side of the train car to resume his position on top, wanting to settle for nothing less than having the high ground. 

It was no difficult task, the man had a weapon on him, but, he didn’t have it raised, likely trying to eavesdrop on the two. 

“You’re bleeding,” he said, he had noticed it before, but, he didn’t truly notice how wounded the cowboy was until now.

Ignoring the comment meant to mock him, Jesse stood back and watched the other man, eyes dark with interest. He was certainly talented, arrow hitting its target the first time he shot. His gaze followed the archer as he went to collect his arrow, and for the first time, Jesse felt real panic. If this man truly meant to kill them, there wasn’t much of a chance he would survive it, unless he shot first.

He considered it, for a split second, before the sound of the man scaling the train brought him from his thoughts. He was silent for a bit, staring off into the darkness. This was dangerous, almost unnecessarily so, but he wasn’t dead yet. Perhaps the man wished to know as much as he could about his target? Whatever his reasoning was for not killing him, Jesse wasn’t sure he cared to know, head turning upwards when he spoke.

The cowboy shrugged, flesh arm particularly stiff as he did so. He was nursing the wound dearly, trying to give it the time it needed to heal. “Ran into another man after we parted ways yesterday. Gave him a chance to turn away, he shot me, so I took him out. Always give ‘em a choice.” Jesse turned his head away again, watching the shadows that surrounded them.

He hadn’t meant to kill the man, but he’d tried to dart, the bullet hitting too close to the heart rather than the shoulder the cowboy had aimed for. His first kill in months, it had left his hands shaking and head aching. His dying face would forever be burned into his head - he hadn’t slept through the night, not a wink. Rubbing his hand down his face, Jesse let out a soft sigh. “Can ya tell me your name, stranger? If you’re gonna kill me, I think I deserve at least that,” He grinned up at the other, clearly trying to get away from the subject.

“Foolish, there is no point in offering choices.”

He realized then he had contradicted himself, he had left the other to live for another day, yet, here they were, deep eyes gazing down at the cowboy beneath him, glancing over his ridiculous get up. 

How did this man blend in at all, he doubted he ever wore anything but the cowboy outfit. 

The archer hesitated, muscles going rigid, visibly debating on telling the other his name. 

“You have likely heard of me already from your Deadlock Gang days, in fact,” he pointed out, “We have met in the past, I was young then, in my early teens.” It was a long time ago, Hanzo was in his later thirties now. “We did not interact, we just saw each other from a distance, my father was on a business trip.”

“Hanzo Shimada,” he finally said, face gazing up at the moon instead of down at the other man as he fell back, the train car was frigid against his bare shoulder, causing a shiver to run down his spine. His prosthetics dangling over the edge as he lied there in silence, eyes closed, enjoying the peace. For once, he could not tell he was in America. The moonlight casting soft shadows across his features, illuminating the tattoo that covered his pectoral and spread down across his entire arm. 

Hanzo was torn internally, this was not the man he had been expecting. The paperwork set him out to be a ruthless killer, a thief, a man with a massive bounty on his head. Yet, he made no indication that he was going to even fight back, not in the slightest. 

“Tell me, cowboy,” he said loudly, “Why do you give me the choice of life or death? When yesterday, I made it exceptionally clear my intent was to kill you, yet, you did not even raise your weapon back. I managed to startle you a few times, but, never enough to make you deem necessary to protect yourself, let alone, to harm me back.”

Then again, Hanzo was not used to one on one combat, he was used to sniping his target from a high distance. 

Head tilted at an odd angle, glancing down the road at the small road sign that stated the speed limit of 35 miles per hour.

“I will make you a deal cowboy, if you can hop up here, and strike that road sign down there, anywhere on it, I will let you live another day.”

Hanzo enjoyed the small games in life, anything to prove himself as superior to others. His brother had loved games, loved trying to get him to play tag with him in the gardens. He had given in a few times, but now, he wished he would have played more with him. The younger Shimada was so full of energy and life, eyes never dull for a moment. Even when being scolded, within a short amount of time, he was right back to his normal self.

The cowboy shrugged, it didn’t matter much to him whether it was foolish or not. Those were his rules - offer anyone that challenged him a chance to turn and leave, no questions asked.

He cocked an eyebrow, trying to recall if they truly had met. Like the other man, he went rigid when it came rushing back. Yes, they had met, he’d thought the other was a female when they were younger. Visibly flushing, Jesse turned his head away for a moment, chuckling. “Sorry I called ya a girl. Didn’t have much of a filter back then.” Even then, he had found the other beautiful. Regardless if this man meant to kill him, he could admit to his beauty.

“Hanzo Shimada. A fittin’ name, I’d say.” It felt like honey on his tongue, though his accent messed with the way it was meant to sound. He gave a hum of consideration, glancing back up when the other fall back onto the train. From where he stood, he could barely see the tattoo that inked his skin, but it looked breathtaking, bathed in moonlight. 

He hesitated at the question - in truth, why had he not defended himself? The other was right, he had made his mission very clear, even shooting just inches from his face. But not once had Jesse felt it was necessary to reach for his gun, take out the arm that the other would need to draw his bow and arrow.

The cowboy let out a quiet sigh, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Dunno, to be honest with ya. You’re one hell of a scary man, could’ve killed me then and still could and I’d never have time to react. But,” he hesitated, tried to find the right words, so they wouldn’t come off as a flirt, “You’re interestin’, Hanzo Shimada. Carry a lot more weight on your shoulders than I think ya let on. Remind me of myself, if I was as strong as yourself.”

A moment of silence, before Hanzo was giving him a challenge, and Jesse couldn’t help but smirk. “Alrighty, I’ll take that challenge,” He skirted the train, looking for the place it’d be easiest to climb up. Whistling some song he’d forgotten the words to, the cowboy leapt upwards, hands grasping for the edge. When he hit the ground with a soft ‘thump,’ he chuckled at himself.

The next jump was more successful, metal fingers managing to snag on an edge. With quite a bit of effort, certainly nowhere near as graceful as the archer, he pulled himself up. Padding delicately to where the man lay, Jesse grinned down at him with a wink. “I’ll do it with my eyes closed, ya let me live another two.”

Studying the sign for just a moment, his brown gaze slid shut. Pulling the gun from its holster, Jesse steadied his hands, drew a deep breath into his lungs and fired. The target was struck, dead center through the ‘O’ within the word. Not bothering to open his eyes yet, he tilted his head to one side. “Well, how’d I do?” He grinned, tucking the gun back into its place.

“You claim to have not had a filter back then, it would seem that nothing has truly changed,” Hanzo scoffed, speaking openly. 

He tried to stifle a laugh as the other man couldn’t even get up on the train car. “How have you survived this long in life, when you cannot even jump properly?” He questioned aloud, pathetic. “I expected more from a former gang member and a former Blackwatch agent.”

“Alright, I accept that,” he nodded, sitting up, swinging around so he could watch the other. 

He watched, certainly the man would not hit it. With his eyes closed, no less. 

Hanzo watched, lips slightly parted, as the man hit his mark, dead center. 

Lips pursed as he gazed away.

“It would seem you get to live for another two days,” he said, gazing up at the cowboy, whom towered over him even more now since he was sitting, and the other man was standing. 

“I underestimated you,” he confessed, glancing up at the train car that dangled over the edge.

He was impressed, to say the least, he did not think that the cowboy had even the slightest chance of hitting his mark.

“They do not call you a sharpshooter for nothing,” he hummed, brown eyes flickering closed. 

The scent of aloe was a bit thicker now, his skin shone with the light green substance. It should be better tomorrow, he told himself. He typically did not get sunburnt, he was not out in the sun usually, he preferred to be hidden entirely, but, Route 66, there was not much place to be tucked away inside of entirely, no shade. It was hot as well.

The archer could not wait to get back to Japan, back where he could rest under the shade of the numerous cherry blossom trees.

Jesse chuckled, giving a shrug of his shoulders. “I got shot yesterday, leave me be. Next time, I’ll get up here, no problem.” He gave the other man a cocky grin, though he knew he’d still struggle. He was the opposite of grace, even if he managed to be fast on his feet when it came down to it.

When the other said he’d live another day, he let his eyes open and took a gentle seat on the train car, keeping a respectable distance from the archer, fingers drumming against the metal below him.

Giving a little hum, Jesse offered Hanzo a smile of thanks. “Still, don’t have the skills you do when it comes ta shootin’. If we were friends, I’d ask ya to teach me a thing or two.” He left the offer open, knew it wouldn’t be accepted, but it would remain. And a part of him wished they had met at a different time in his life, when a friendship was possible.

Eyes drifting across the other mans shoulders, he let out a soft sigh, leaning just a bit to get a good look at the burns along his skin. “Do ya even have sunblock, or did ya not bother to get any?” He turned to dig in the pocket of his pants, face set in concentration. Pulling out a rather small, travel size bottle of the stuff, he slid it across the trains top to the archer. “Take it. I’ve got plenty, livin’ in the South and all.”

While he was used to the heat, ones skin never truly got used to the violent rays. He was sure he’d spent more money on sunblock than food in his entire life, constantly lugging around a bottle everywhere he went.

He remained silent as the other stated that he was shot, anyone was able to put two and two together. 

“I have been training for decades with various weapons, much longer than you likely have. On top of that, I am patient and quiet, while as you are loud, boisterous, and impatient; the typical American these day,” he said, gazing up at the sky. 

Eyes flickered at the cowboy, reaching out and grabbing the small bottle of sunscreen. 

“We do not need it in Japan, plus, I usually snipe in the dark, or have shade to hide me from sight, I do not have the luxury here,” he explained. He rarely got sunburns, he used to get burnt as a child, then again, he had fair skin, and he used to spend a lot of time outside as a young child, running along many of the sandy beaches of Japan.  

“Plus, most sunblock has a scent that gives me away, it’s why I have to use unscented soap and unscented shampoo during missions,” he said, looking back up at the sky. 

It was nice, being able to see the stars without the massive light pollution of Japan. The feint sight of the rest of the Milky Way galaxy just barely visible. 

“How far out to you have to get from town to be able to see the sky more clearly?” He asked, gazing up at the numerous stars, still a bit hard to see with the light from the diner and the 24 hour gas station down the road. 

The man sat up, hand snagging on the gold ribbon, completely tugging it out, hair falling over his shoulders. 

“Kuso,” he cursed, quickly grabbing the ribbon, straightening it out in his lap a bit before holding it between this teeth, using both hands to pull his hair back up, retying it with practiced ease.

Jesse truthfully didn’t mind the insults, took them easily and nodded his agreement. “I’d reckon you’re likely right. I’ve trained with a gun and my fists, but that’s about it. Don’t think I’d have the patience for a bow, or even a sniper rifle.”

As the other gazed at the stars, so did he. Sitting below them made him feel small, so insignificant. Yet, it was not an unwelcome feeling, it was humbling in the same way. As good as they both were, they were nothing compared to the cosmos. Or, so he thought, until the other man’s hair fell down from its hold.

Then, Jesse could’ve sworn he was more beautiful than any star could ever be, black and gray strands spilling down his shoulders like an inky waterfall. It made his breath hitch silently, he wished this was another time, perhaps another life, where this man did not seek to kill him.

Still, as the archer tied his hair back up, the cowboy considered the others words. “Not far, a half hour drive at tha most?” He glanced over at him, offering him a gentle smile. “If ya’ve never seen the stars in all their glory, ya have to. Grant me that one thing, let me take ya to see the stars, unrivaled by city lights.”

He knew the way, already knew where he’d take the other man, on the slim chance he agreed. His car was parked just to the side of the diner, a small black sports vehicle that got him where he needed to be. There was a perfect spot that no one else ever went to, he knew it’d be silent enough for the both of them.

He didn’t doubt the other could pack a harsh punch, especially with a metal hand, it could cause quite a bit of damage. Hanzo preferred to punch rather to kick, then again, he felt his own fists could do more damage than his small prosthetics could. 

Fingers ran through the ponytail, working it slightly, ensuring that the tails of the ribbon were both even, something he had a habit of doing. He did not know why he kept the ribbon, it had given away his location this time, and one other time as well, it was something he needed to get rid of eventually. But, he just couldn’t for some reason. 

Hanzo was silent for quite some time, half an hour was not too far. 

It was the fact though of being in a confined space with the other that unsettled him, he could not draw his bow in the vehicle, it was too tight of an area for him. 

“I will grant that to you, on one condition,” he said. “Gun goes in the glove box,” he said, not trusting the other enough to not shoot him point blank in a moving vehicle. He was not stupid or foolish like others were, he was cunning and smart.

The cowboy was happy to watch Hanzo fiddle with the ribbon as he thought, swinging his legs gently over the edge where they dangled. When he didn’t want to be caught, he pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked his car, watching it light up, the red light reflecting off the side of the diner.

It didn’t surprise him that Hanzo requested his gun be put away, even if Jesse hadn’t even considered shooting him an option. It did, however, surprise him that the other man accepted his offer at all.

“Glove box, trunk, wherever ya’d like.” Jesse grinned, looking down over the edge of the train. “Now, I’m gonna make myself look like an idiot, I’d appreciate if ya kept your comments to yourself,” He laughed, no spite behind his words.

Shuffling forward, the cowboy let himself drop, rolling forward on the landing. It shocked his bones a little, but nothing he couldn’t just brush off. “C'mon then, I’ve got some pretty stars ta show ya.” He grinned up at the man from where he stood, waiting patiently, only because he wanted to see the way he got down with grace.

He saw the lights of the vehicle in his peripheral vision, choosing to ignore it as he listened to the other, genuinely surprised he had promised to put away his weapon. Then again, without his bow, Hanzo wasn’t much of a threat.

He watched as the other dropped off of the edge of the train, just barely stifling a laugh.

What an idiot. 

Hanzo nodded, pushing himself to his feet and leaping off, ribbons flying out behind him, arms tense from years of leaping with a bow in his hand, his grip never once faltering on the weapon. 

He landed gently, prosthetics taking a majority of the blow, it was evident they were designed for high impacts. The arrows rattled in his quiver upon landing, nothing too loud though.

“Lead the way,” he said, brown eyes meeting the others. 

“Oh, and your ‘peacekeeper’, as you call it,” he said, holding his hand out. 

Yup, Hanzo was definitely the definition of grace, Jesse watching him fall to the ground like he’d done it a thousand times. He likely had, but it was still captivating, the cowboy offering him a wide grin when he landed.

Humming softly, he pulled his gun from its holster and handed it over, not even blinking twice at the action. He took the lead to his car, swinging around the passenger side to pull the door open, though he did not hover there.

Climbing in his side, Jesse started the car, listening to the growl of the engine. Of the things in his life, it was something he held a lot of sentimentality for, with all the work he had put into it.

“C'mon then, burnin’ starlight and all that,” He turned the radio up low, not particularly interested in what it was playing.

The man held the gun, it was a lot heavier than he had thought, and it was a bit larger than it looked as well. 

The archer got in, putting the weapons on the floorboards by his feet, shutting the door, gazing out the window. 

He was silent, trying to make sense of the situation, he was here to kill the man, yet, here he was, in a vehicle, in McCree’s vehicle, about to go stargazing. But, he had promised the man could live for another 2 days, and, he was a man of his word. 

He leaned his head against the window, it was odd, being in a vehicle again, in Hanamura, everything was within walking distance, or, he could just scale the walls and roofs that separated him from his destination.

The cowboy let Hanzo have his peace and quiet while they drove, roads just as empty as he thought they would be. They didn’t pass a single other car, Jesse taking advantage of it, rolling his window down to feel the wind on his face.

His hat was deposited in the rear seat for safe keeping, brown locks thrown back by the wind that rushed through the vehicle. Though he gunned it down the roads, the vehicle never stuttered or jerked, he knew the roads to the planned spot like the back of his own hand.

As they grew closer, Jesse pulled the vehicle off to the side of the road, climbing out eagerly. There was a large hill that rose in front of them, he planned on leading the other man up there, a grin on his face as he ushered him out of the car.

Already the stars were brighter, not a light around except for the sky and his car. “C'mon. I promise, this is a sight ya just gotta see,” He reached into the back of his car and grabbed out the serape he usually had wrapped around his shoulders.

Away from the city, it was a bit chillier, he wanted it just in case. Weapons forgotten, Jesse was just happy to be here. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten around to paying the spot a visit.

The archer watched as the scenery passed them by, it was serene, quiet. It reminded him a bit of back home, where things were almost always silent, nothing but the sound of the feint wind slowly causing cherry blossoms to drop from their homes amongst the tree branches. 

He would awaken to a fresh sea of bright pink outside the doors after a large storm, many still damp after a heavy rain. They were a hassle to try to clean up while wet, so, he would leave them there to dry during the day, the bright sun sapping the moisture from them. 

Hanzo watched the other get out, following suit, hesitating to leave his weapon behind, but, he did not think the cowboy would be much of an issue without his beloved gun. 

Brown eyes latched onto the red fabric. 

Jesse looked so different without his hat and serape, the two main visuals of him now gone. He looked like an entirely different man. 

It was certainly a bit colder out here, not that it truly bothered the archer, he was used to it, but, having half of his chest exposed at all times, it had its pros and cons.

He was able to move faster while drawing his arrow, cons? He got a bit colder just a bit faster. He didn’t truly feel exposed anymore, quite the opposite. He felt constricted when wearing regular clothes that covered the entirety of his chest. And he knew it would always be like that, year of dressing like this will do that to a person.

“How far is your nations capital?” He questioned, gazing up at the other. Not truly intending on sight-seeing, but, he wished to see how the cherry blossoms differed from his country to this one.

 

 

 

 

Unaware, or perhaps simply ignoring, the feeling of the other man’s gaze on his back, Jesse made his way up the hill. While it was a decent incline, it leveled out at the top, perfect for lying back and watching the stars.

Reaching the top (only a little bit winded, though he’d never admit it,) the cowboy took a seat and stretched himself out. Flesh arm stiff and aching, he tucked the mechanical one under his head, red serape set off to the side for now.

Part of him wondered what the hell he was even doing here. Was he trying to win the other man over? He was sent to kill him, after all, though hadn’t as of yet. But Jesse had offered to take him to look at the stars - he could get his throat slit and no one would be around to notice.

Yet, glancing at the archer as he spoke, he had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen. Maybe one day, not on this one. So, the cowboy decided to take the days one at a time, let nature take its course in things and enjoy having someone around to talk to.

He considered the question silently, before turning his full attention to the man. “Last time I drove it from here, took twenty two hours,” A pause, a moments hesitation, “Could get ya there before day two, if there’s somethin’ you’re lookin’ to see.”

Brown gaze sliding back to the stars, he couldn’t help the calm smile that found his lips. It’d been too long since he’d visited, some of the constellation names were starting to slip his mind. Still, raising his flesh hand, he jutted a finger at a place in the sky.

“That’s Aquila, the word means Eagle. He was the bolt carrier for Zeus in Greek stories. Read all about him when I first started comin’ here to look at the stars.” He murmured the memory fondly, looking for another one he could name.

The ascend was simple, nothing compared to the numerous hikes and climbs he was used to. Artificial legs carrying him up with ease, the moonlight reflecting off of them.

Hanzo sat down, legs crossed the best he could without the unusual sensation of them scraping against one another. 

It would be easy, he had a concealed knife on him, but, the other was taller and larger than he was. And, he was not particularly fond of hand to hand combat. He was an assassin after all, and a sniper. He would rather just shoot the other instead of try to stab or slice him open. But, he had also given the other two more days.

Plus, he didn’t exactly know how to drive himself back either, he had always had people drive him around his entire life, especially as a child.

But, in Hanamura, everything was within a walking distance, he had grown used to walking about, instead of relying on public transport for his needs.

Eyes were fixed on the stars that surrounded them, the deep purples and blues of the nebula surrounding them. 

“Too far,” he simply stated, he did not want to remain in America any longer than necessary. It was too far to travel to see some cherry blossoms in his opinion, not when there were oh so many back home. 

Rich colors filled the sky as he looked up, slightly awestruck. He had never been able to see the sky so clearly, he was always off on missions in large towns, where there were too many lights. Some of the towns, you could not tell if it was day or night half of the time, the light pollution was too strong for him. 

  
“The Summer Triangle,” he said, pointing out yet another one, mapping out the three stars within the deep vibrant colors of the Milky Way galaxy. That was the only one he truly could ever locate. His brother always called it the pizza slice constellation. 

Jesse shrugged as the offer was declined, he’d figured it would be, but it never hurt to try. Maybe, if he lived beyond the two days, he’d go see the capital again some time. He couldn’t remember why he had gone there last, had it been the Cherry Blossom festival? Most likely.

But he watched the other gaze at the stars, a soft smile on his lips. Beautiful, his head kept whispering, and the cowboy had to agree. The moonlight seemed to be attracted to him, surrounding him in a glow Jesse was likely to not soon forget.

He followed the others pointing finger, giving a nod of his head. “A lot of tha constellations we can see here are named after horoscopes,” He pointed to another one as he spoke, “That’s Leo. My sister said it was her favorite.”

The memory came out without him really meaning it to, clearing his throat. “Sorry, gettin’ too fond over here. Just ignore me,” He cracked a grin at the other man, turning his eyes back to the stars.

And ignore him Hanzo did. 

“I am an only child,” not a complete lie, his brother was long dead, brought down by his own two hands.

_Blood. There had been so much of it. Dripping from the katana that rested in his hands, it puddled beneath the sharp weapon. His own clothes had flecks of the deep crimson fluid on it. But, Genji was completely soaked, blood dripping from the large gash that ran horizontal across his chest, the shimmer of the man’s insides made him nauseous._

_He didn’t think he had ever screamed so loudly in his life when he realized what he had done, the used weapon dropping to the ground, bouncing gently as it bounced off of the deep red concrete beneath them._

The memory melted away almost as quickly as it had flooded into his senses. The scent of cherry blossoms and of blood slowly dissolving. The feel of the others blood on his skin was replaced by the gentle whisper of the wind, blowing his bangs around slightly. 

He reached up, pushing them back into place, eyes-half closed as he tried to force his mind to stop wandering. Stop thinking about him. What happened, it happened. There was no changing the past. 

Genji was dead. 

And he had done it. 

Genji would love watching the stars, he would be ecstatic to be here right now. 

He was still slightly on edge, though, without the other man being armed, he could allow himself to relax for a little while. He was exhausted, the intense heat of the South slowly sapping his body energy the past few days. He would never be able to live here, or hide out here, no matter how short the time period would be. 

He did not know his horoscope, he was not big into that kind of thing. It seemed too fake for his beliefs. 

Tattoo crackling, dragons becoming restless, aching for the trill of battle. He ignored them, the dragon on his arm shifting slightly. If the other had seen it, he hoped he would merely think it was a trick of the eye, or not even notice it under the glow of the full moon off in the distance. 

As the silence dragged, Jesse took a few moments to glance at the other man. The moment he saw the look on his face, he pushed himself up slowly, angling his body a bit more towards the archer.

When he opened his eyes again, the cowboy chose his words carefully, not wanting to step on any toes. But he knew the look well, had seen it in his own reflection; it was one someone bore when they had blood on their hands that they had full regret over.

“Y'know… I’m not gonna pry, but, I’m a dyin’ man. If there’s somethin’ ya’d like ta talk about, I’m all ears.” He wouldn’t push the issue, wouldn’t dare, because he knew that it only made it ache to have something like that pushed and prodded at.

His brown gaze slid downwards when movement caught his attention, tipping his head as the dragons on the other man’s arm shifted. But, Jesse decided not to ask about it, turning his gaze back up to the stars. Another time, perhaps, he would ask about it.

The cowboy leaned back on his palms, metal scraping slightly against the stone below them. Once more he let the silence settle around them, a small roll of thunder sounding somewhere off in the distance.

“You are truly the most stupid person I have ever met,” he scoffed, glaring daggers at the cowboy, despite it being dark outside, he knew the other could see or, it at least, feel it. 

He was a man of silence, he bore no problems. Yet, he felt like he carried the weight of a million burdens on his shoulders. 

The archer shifted, lying down, prosthetics following suit to the sound of the cowboy’s shoddy prosthetic against the rough ground beneath them. 

A soft sigh was pulled from his lips. There was all this out there, all out in front of him. How many of the stars had names? How many were there? Was it true that no two were alike? Was there a star out there for every person on Earth? Did he himself have a star? Was it close to where Genji’s would have been? 

The galaxy was so large, breathtaking, all this gorgeous space before him, stunning vivid colors, colors that reminded him of the first Hanamura Cherry Blossom festival he had gone to with his brother, no guards, no parents. Just the two of them.

_He had worn a deep blue yukata with a white sash. His brother preferred to wear lighter colors, going with a light lavender with a white sash as well. Others teased his little brother, purple was for women’s yukatas, and about how horribly it had clashed with his bright green hair.  It was indeed a women’s yukata he was wearing. But, Genji had wanted it, and he had bought it with his own money. And, it fit normally, there was no true difference. It was a bit shorter, but, he liked it that way, easier for him to run around, stuffing dango into his mouth as they went along._

_Bright colored lanterns surrounded them as they walked along, Genji chatting with all of his friends along the way._

_Hanzo spoke to no one. He did not socialize. Training was much more important to him, and to his Father. If he was to be the heir to the clan, he needed to excel in combat, all forms._

_The heir had eventually sat down, listening to his brother talk and talk, talk about how the arcade shop down the street was getting a new game in, boasting about he was going to be the first one to break it in, and how he was going to be undefeated. If only Genji focused on family matters like he focused on video games and being social._

“It is very pretty,” he said finally, breath gentle, almost nonexistent. 

The cowboy shrugged against the insult, surely feeling the daggers that were glared at him.

 “I’m sure I am. The offer remains,” He murmured softly, listening to the thunder roll in the distance. A man with many burdens often times dreamt only of nightmares. Jesse found, his were not full of monsters or beasts, only himself and the people he’d killed. Faces that haunted him, the sound of dying men and women enough to make him shake on the nights he did sleep. And it seemed, recently, those nightmares were drifting into the peace he found while awake. 

Gaze drifting over the stars, he tried to turn his thoughts to happier days. On the farm, with his younger sister, baking with his mother… Those memories were tainted, too, bruised by Jesse’s own hands. The metal one shifted against the ground, pulled closer to himself as a chill passed down his spine. The things he had done, he found he would never truly be able to make up for them. 

Overwatch had been kind to offer him the chance, he’d done a lot of right by working with them, but he deserved this now. Being hunted for the bounty that hung over his head. 

_Before Overwatch, Jesse had been relaxing under the stars in the same spot, full of the same wonder and smallness he felt now. The sound of movement had been enough to draw his attention, Peacemaker raised in preparation. The other man shot first, missed as Jesse had rolled away. No words passed between the men as they fired, he should’ve known by the way the other had moved that they knew one another._

_But in the pitch black of the night, he fought blindly, got lucky when he struck his assailant through the chest. He’d walked over to him, collapsed to his knees when he’d recognized the face. A man he considered his best friend, as close as one could have when they’d done the things he had. Begging and asking why, why, why was he trying to kill him? Through bloodied lips, he’d been called a monster, told he deserved to have his head splattered against the stupid boulder._

 The memories were dragged away as Hanzo spoke, barely audible above the thunder that echoed, still so far away. He gave a nod of his head, remembered it was dark and used his voice instead. “Ya never tire of seein’ it. Could probably be happy lookin’ at the stars every night,” His voice was quiet, mirroring the volume the other had used.

He could not argue with that, it was certainly a sight to see. He shifted a bit, just glancing up at the rick and vibrant portrait before him. 

The sky was an inky canvas, drawn with a heavy brush, like the kind he had used when he learned calligraphy, writing on scrolls as a child. 

The nebula was sprayed gently, added carefully like a spray bottle that he had used oh so many times on his brother, chiding him to get up and do his chores. To go wash his yukata, and to go practice his forms.

The stars were precisely, yet carelessly, laid out. A brush dripped in pure white, white like the snow that covered the mountain that filled the backdrop of Hanamura, flinging the color around, adding speckles here and there.

It was art, in its truest form. Art that they did not have back home. They had everything else, the latest technology; proven by his prosthetic legs, they had the cultural art, thousands of years of history in the making, everything ranging from plays, to poetry, to pottery, to calligraphy, to haikus, to various forms of martial arts to the variety of weapons. 

Japan had it all. 

Except this. 

Japan was too overpopulated, too industrialized. Hanamura was one area where it had remained, frozen in time. Technology and time shifted, moving, advancing around them, the world shifting and industrializing. Everything was sleek and modern, he had seen pictures of Ilios, it was breathtaking. Sleek white, sandy beaches. It seemed like it was thousands of years in the future in comparison to his home. But, Hanamura was just a village on the outskirts of a larger town. It was odd, when he would have walked out of the castle at a young age, everything pristine and in order, nothing but signs of his clan surrounding him. But, when he looked outside his window, skyscrapers were not that far off, just down the large rocky ridge that the village resided on top of. A few mopeds littered the town, but, that was fairly advanced technology for the small village.

It was confusing, as he would rake the zen garden, looking out, as if through a barrier, and seeing the modern world. Seeing people in tank tops, and shorts, and large clunky armor, or boots; while he wore nothing but traditional garb. His brother always wore modern clothes, and it irritated him to no end. He still owned nothing ‘modern’.

But, Route 66, the small area of Deadlock Gorge, seemed frozen in the same time area. Neon lights, ancient gas pumps. The town looked like it was one strong gust of wind away from collapsing in on itself. And, with the recent train explosion, it wouldn’t surprise him at all. 

“Tell me cowboy,” he said, “Why did you offer to bring me out here, when, in 2 days time, you will be dead by my own two hands?” He questioned, eyes completely closed at this point, starting to gently drift off. The cold was starting to slowly get to him, only having half of your chest covered would do that to you. 

Jesse was silent himself when the question was posed, traced his eyes along stars and remembered their names, followed constellations and forgot some of theirs. He knew his answer, he supposed, but it was a pathetic one.

Sitting up, exhaustion dripping from the other man’s voice, the cowboy moved slowly, carefully, didn’t want to seem a threat. He placed the serape across the archer gently, enough to cover his shoulders and chest, plus a little extra.

Moving back to his spot, Jesse let out a slow, contemplative sigh. “Got a few reasons, I guess. The first bein’ that I’m lonely. You’re an interestin’ man, if one of my last memories is seein’ the stars with ya, well, I’m not against it,” He pulled his legs close to his chest, head propped on one of his knees.

“Second bein’ that everyone deserves ta see this. Helps the soul heal a little bit, ya don’t seem a stranger to needin’ a bit of time away from your thoughts.” He finished, brown gaze sliding shut.

Pathetic, he told himself, but at least it was the truth. Death had been looming over his head for years, he wasn’t scared at the thought of it being final in two days. Sad, perhaps? But not scared, he wasn’t going to beg for his life. Live in the moment, accept what was and what would be.

The man shuddered slightly as he was covered up by the hideous red cloth, but, it was warm. Very much so. It took the bite off of the cool air as he sat up, wrapping it around himself completely, trying to mimic how the cowboy typically wore it, failing miserably. But, he did not care how he looked, it was warm. 

He crossed his legs, a way that he almost always sat these days, he had sat like that since he was a child, it was easier now, with prosthetics. 

“You must be very lonely to take an assassin out to see the stars,” he said gently. Not to mention very pathetic.

“I assure you, I am not interesting at all, merely a sniper,” he insisted, not truly going to argue the other on that one. It was the truth, when asked to talk about himself, he never knew what to say, he didn’t have any major accomplishments besides surviving having his legs cut off. 

“My thoughts are always with me, there is no such thing as being away from them,” he insisted, eyes completely closed, voice hushed, the warmth of the serape causing him to become incredibly drowsy very quickly.

Brain was dulled, it had been a long day, the heat had sapped him, waiting up in that train car all day had sapped him, the lengthy car ride as well. It was likely not that grueling for the cowboy, but, when you have not been in a car for many many years, it was taxing. 

He lolled off to one side, nearly tipping over as he jolted back into full alertness, nearly smacking himself in the face somehow as he did it, face flushed with embarrassment as his exhaustion was showing quite clearly now. 

Jesse gave a nod of his head, there was no point in arguing against it. “Like ya said, I must be, and I am,” He opened his eyes again to watch the other man, wrapped up and clearly fighting exhaustion.

He snorted at the second comment, giving a shake of his head. Now that, he couldn’t agree with. “I have met a lot of people in my life, Hanzo Shimada, and ya’ve gotta be the most interestin’ one. Don’t argue with me on this.” He started to get to his feet, checking his pockets to make sure he had all of his things.

“Hmm, I know. Even here, I feel like I’m livin’ in my head. Still, it’s quieter. It’s somethin’.” He sounded almost fond, brown gaze watching the sniper nearly fall on his face. Perhaps it was the heat, he had said he wasn’t used to it.

Walking slowly over to the other man, Jesse held out the hand that was flesh. “C'mon. Ya got somewhere you’re stayin’? I don’t think you’re in shape ta be scalin’ walls right now.” He wasn’t just going to leave the archer there to freeze to death, maybe be struck by lightning from the storm that drew ever closer.

He doubted he’d be allowed to drive the man wherever he was staying, that was just silly to expect. But he’d drop him off close, if he was permitted, or… There was always his own home, if the man wasn’t staying at a motel. He’d only offer that if it came down to it, he told himself, hand extended to help the man get to his feet.

He knew the other was lying, surely, in his days of Overwatch and Blackwatch, he had met someone far more interesting than a broken archer assassin, whom, was horribly failing at living up to that title. He hadn’t killed the man the last time they met, or today, instead, he promised him two more days to live, like some sort of stupid angel. 

“The hotel down the street,” he muttered, accepting the others hands hesitantly, pulling himself to his feet. He did not weigh much, and it was only then he realized how much taller Jesse was than him. 

But, Hanzo was also fairly short. 

“Up on the roof,” he continued, he did not like renting rooms, they always asked for his names, trying to be personable with him. He did not have any belongings besides his Storm Bow and his quiver. 

If the other intended on shooting him while he slept on the roof, good luck. The man would have to climb higher than that point, and, after seeing him struggle to get onto a simply train car, he knew that odds were highly in his favor. 

He knew it was going to rain, he would seek shelter in a train car most likely, it would protect him from the harsh elements. He had survived the past couple of night sin the cold, he would survive a few more. 

He might have to break down and get a room at the hotel. 

The cowboy tipped his head down to be able to meet the others dark, sleepy gaze, hesitating a moment before taking the lead back to the car. He was about to accept that the man was staying in a hotel, until he said he was sleeping on the damn roof.

Jesse clicked his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head. “It’s gonna storm tonight. You’re not sleepin’ on a roof.” He did as he had earlier, climbing in and pushing the other door open for the archer. He paused in his words, starting the car and waiting a moment for the other to climb in.

“Ya can stay at my house. I’ll sleep in tha car or somethin’. Ya can keep my gun an’ your bow, if it makes ya feel better.” He could just park down the street, the car wasn’t too uncomfortable to sleep in. He’d done it a thousand times, one more wouldn’t hurt.

Pulling away from the hill, Jesse took a look at it through the mirror, wondering if this would truly be the last time he saw it. Oh well, he thought, it’d been a good evening. Spent with a man whose name he’d only just learned, who was going to be his death in two days.

He turned his eyes to the road, driving just a bit slower than he had before. The rain started, he wasn’t willing to slide off the dirt roads as they grew wet.

The scent of rain hung low in the air as Hanzo took a deep breath of it in. It wasn’t too far off from here, not at all. He could practically taste it. 

He loved the rain, loved to watch as the clouds would roll in, nature taking its toll on the earth. One thing that wasn’t completely predictable, something that the world decided on, something nature chose to do. It had no outside interference, nothing at all. 

He loved watching it rain, sitting on a windowsill, cup of light colored tea in his hands. The cool air whisping against his skin, while the gentle heat radiating from the cup would spread upwards, ghosting along his neck, following every dip and crevice of his flesh, falling up over the back of his ears, up over the tip of his nose. 

The archer followed the man, one hand coming up to hold onto the serape, thankful for its warmth. How many people did he lend it out to? It had obviously seen better days, tears and frays here and there, he thought he could see a bullet hole in it, but, it may have just been an illusion in the darkness. 

Hanzo slipped into the car, refraining from putting on his seat belt. He was tired, but, his brain was still somewhat active, telling him to still be leery of the other, in case if he were to need to roll out of the car suddenly. 

“Your floor will suffice,” he said with a nod, head leaning against the window, watching as the bright sky overheard shifted as they went back down the road, slowly slipping away from the small amount of light pollution from the small gorge. 

The town was a blink, to say the least, if you closed your eyes for even a second, you could drive right on past it, and never know any different. 

Hanzo watched as the raindrops gently patted against the window, clinging to the clear surface of the window, slipping and sliding back towards the rear of the vehicle, caused by the gentle speed they were traveling at. 

Hanzo liked the rain. He liked it a lot. It was soothing, the sound of the gentle thrum of thunder, the sudden splash of lightning in the sky, casting odd and frightening shadows for only a small fraction of a second, watching as the lightning would extend from the sky; the Gods wrath crashing down onto the surface of the planet. 

The rain could be gentle, it could be calming. But, even as a gentle mist of rain, it was still destructive, wearing down on the land beneath, turning the hard soil into mush, knocking half-dead leaves from trees. Even the most gentle of rains, left their marks. 

It could also be ruthless, gale force winds destroying everything in its path, rains could turn into puddles, which could turn into small streams; slipping down the edges of the streets for the storm drains. They could turn into flood, catastrophes with no sudden warning. 

Gentle and slowly destructive, or fast, relentless, and unforgiving. There was no in-between. 

Just like the dragons. 

While the other thought of his love for the rain, Jesse recalled some of the storms he had been witness to in his life. The tornado that had touched down on his family’s property, tearing fences from the ground, narrowly avoiding their home. He wondered, if that tornado had hit their home, would he have survived? Or would everything have been over then?

He thought of the hurricane that had barreled down the coast, hours from his home, but the downpour it brought to his home. The basement had flooded to his knees, he’d spent hours cleaning it up, only to have it flood again the next day. Happier days, his mother had laughed, he could remember the way her eyes crinkled at the edges. How the gunslinger missed her, grip tightening on the steering wheel as they drove.

Finally, he thought of the summer storms that came without thunder, when the sky would stay bright blue. He remembered a particular day, sweeping his little sister up in his arms and bolting out into the rain. Mama had yelled at them to come back inside, Josie had begged him to keep running. They came home two hours later, covered in mud, Jesse was grounded for two weeks for scaring his mother. Later, she kissed his cheek and thanked him for making his sister happy.

If the archer hadn’t spoken, he was sure he would have begun to cry, tears building in his eyes. Thankful for the darkness that filled the car, Jesse cleared his throat and nodded. “Sure.” Quiet, for once, perhaps it was starting to hit him. If the man was true to his word - which, he had been to this point - he had two days. Maybe it would be best to call his family, just to say goodbye.

When his house loomed in the distance, the gunslinger pushed his thoughts down, gave himself a moment to collect his emotions. Pulling up the long road that led to his door, he parked the car, listening to the thunder outside for a moment.

“Ya can keep the serape tonight, or I can get ya a proper blanket and somethin’ ta sleep in. Up to you,” He got out from the vehicle, hat forgotten in the back seat for now. In the morning, he told himself, walking up to the front door. It was a small home, perfect for two people but no more, and he cared for it. There was a small garden out front, he made a mental note to tend to it in the morning as he pushed the door open.

A little bell drew his attention, his brown gaze falling on the small black cat that mewed up at him. “Ah, it’s kinda late for your dinner, isn’t it?” He chuckled, leaning down to scope up the animal. She’d come into his life on accident two years previous, he’d always considered himself a dog person, but he couldn’t turn down her sweet face.

“Ya can come on in, I’ll be out of your hair after I feed her,” Jesse tried a grin, but it quickly relaxed to a soft smile. Exhaustion was hitting him, all at once.

The wind wavered the gold ribbons behind him slightly, creating the illusion of a gentle coursing river behind him as he pushed his way up to the house, rain gently collecting on his face. He did not flinch at all as it gently covered him with a fine mist. Rain gently ran down the shaft of his arrows in their quiver, he refused to go inside without them. He reached forward, gently slipping the revolver into the others holster, unsure if he would even notice the familiar weight of it being placed back. He seemed a bit preoccupied with the cat.

American homes were so odd, they were set up so much differently than the ones back home. The tables were raised, there were no mats on the floor. The ceilings were lower here, no rafters for him to rest up inside like he was oh so used to doing.

“Thank you,” he said, noticing the other didn’t even bother to remove his boots as he entered his own home. 

Disgusting Americans.

The archer immediately just went over to the couch, Storm Bow and quiver being slipped off of him, set on the floor as he sat down, immediately leaning back, eyes already closed as he reached up, tugging the ribbon from his hair, tying around his wrist so he would not misplace it. Or, so the cat would not find it as a toy.

Prosthetics shifted as he immediately felt comfortable, the past few nights of sleeping on rooftops, the couch felt like a godsend as he leaned over, serape still wrapped firmly around him, drifting off to sleep nearly immediately.

The dragon slumbers.

He did notice the gun being slipped back into his holster, but left it alone, stepping out of the way so the other man could enter. Watching him from the corner of his eye as he settled down, he was thankful for the light that allowed him to fully see the inky hair that spilled from its hold.

It seemed almost instant that the archer fell asleep, Jesse slipping his shoes off so he could move silently about the house. He made quick work of feeding the cat, locked the door and turned the lights out. He made sure to set a blanket on the back of the couch, in case Hanzo decided the serape was not enough.

When Jesse's head hit the pillow, it was full of so many - too many - thoughts, but he drifted off anyway.


End file.
